The Whiteface Clown
by KooriAkuma
Summary: [I'll update this later]


December 1  
07:00 EST

We arrived in a dark and gloomy city today. The sun was refusing to peek through the heavy set of clouds covering the sky, thus the city was still covered in shadows all throughout the morning. Come seven, the shadows were diminishing, but were still very present when we came to a stop at a vacant lot. It was cold, extremely so, and neither the beanie, gloves, nor scarf could block the cold winds from seeping into every inch of my bones. I could feel the numbness on my skin as I walked out of the lot and into the streets of the city in hopes of finding a place I could get some steaming hot coffee. A prosperous city like this, it should have a shop at every corner if not every other corner.

Turning the corner not far from the lot were the people had begun to exit the trailers, getting to work as they were instructed to, a small and cozy looking café came into view. Already buzzing with people coming in and out of it, I thought nothing of walking into the shop to place an order for several of their hot drinks and ask for help on taking them back to the not-so-empty lot were surely all the workers were freezing to death as our coffee machine had broken down the night before and the liquid was _life_. I should have waited, given the idea a more thorough once-over and see how ridiculous of an idea this was, but I didn't think twice about it until I was already inside and at the counter, with about a little over dozen set of eyes watching me.

"Mom," the excited whispers of a child rose from the booth second to the back, "It's a clown! Look, look, look, he's waving and me! Mom, can I go say hi—HI!"

The scene was always a coin toss: it was about one out of every four children despised clowns, were scared of them as if we were monsters about to swallow them whole, but on several occasions they wanted hugs and candy and tricks to be done for them to see. This small child jumped from his seat before the mother had time to answer, bolted down the row almost knocking a waitress down in the process, and tackled me around the waist. Having been waiting for the impact, I maintained a solid stance as he collided and evaded the obvious crash to the floor that would have happened. He jumped up and down in my arms, hugging with such strength I didn't think possible for a child, and could do nothing but smile and jump with him, playing the part I am to always play.

Whether I was going to be kicked out of the café for jumping around in circles with a child, juggling empty cups of coffee that had people gasping (I was a clumsy juggler), and for bringing in parents into the shop to see me and not buy coffee, I wasn't sure. I was sure, however, that my work had begun earlier than I had initially expect. Having asked for the café's permission, I distributed fliers, signed pictures, and a couple of tickets to those first few children that came to play. The boy that had come to me first, of course, had gotten tickets for his whole family. The others, sadly enough, could only get one ticket for each child they had, which meant to be able to take them, the adults had to buy their own ticket, twice the cost of a child's ticket.

"How young do you have to be to get a free ticket?" the voice was lower than the children's, the hint of adolescence sounding clearly by the pitch of his voice. My thoughts were confirmed when I turned to boy about my age, black hair combed back neatly, he wore an academy uniform, and the most mischievous looking dark blue eyes. He had a smirk on his lips as he asked, "Can I get one to?"

I exaggerated the act of ignoring him, turning my back and slowly looking over my shoulder only to see him still with an outstretched hand, I turned away quickly. The remaining children laughed loudly, they thought it was the most hilarious thing, ignoring the 'big kid' in the café, but he was rather persistent. He moved to the side I was facing and waved his had in front of my face. I _'hmpfed'_ at him, tuning my back to him once more and crossing my arms over my chest, pouting the small, red painted lips on my face. My acts were always mute ones, and although it was working quite well in the café, many confused me for mime. It was a sore spot for some clowns, and this boy knew it.

"You're a really mean mime." A collection of gasp made him look around, but he already knew why he had caused such a reaction. "What? Did I get it wrong?"

"He's _clown_!"

While the children continued their explanation of why I was a clown, although I was almost completely white and absolutely mute, I reached into my suit and brought out a long, red, and rubbery object. I place it on my lips, quieting the children from their argument, and even the boy was silent as he turned to watch as I began to blow air into the small balloon. Slowly the flaccid object took the form of a bat, the word "Strike!" written across the center, and the children were going crazy as I placed it on the ground, pretended to spit on my gloved hands and took a batting stance. The first strike got him right on the ribs, the next on his legs, and when he bent down, the last got him on the back of his head, forcing him to his knees. Laughs and applause erupted from the crowd when I moved to sit on his back, crossing my legs at the knees.

"Get off me." I rolled on the floor as he stood and pushed me ever so lightly off. "And I still don't get my ticket, seriously? You sat on me!"

I jumped up, hugging the balloon bat to my chest as I shook my head 'no' and turned back to the counter. I had yet to order some coffee, and I doubted I need to now. If anything, the ringmaster would be furious with me for disappearing, but I had done a successful marketing. Several children left with tickets, those would surely appear during the first show, and the parents would have to buy their own tickets. Many other children would start begging their parents to take them, those would be going sooner or later, because parents could only last so long. And then there was this _boy_ who insisted on speaking to me although everyone else had left and I has exited the café.

"I'm going to check out the circus." He explained when I turned back and gave him a look. Behind him, at the counter of the café, the man he had been sitting with was paying. He looked back and then turned to me with a smile. "He's my guardian, and the one that contracted the circus you belong to. You're here all this month, right?"

Contracted the circus? I obviously should know nothing about who contracted us to come to Gotham city, the information was just given to us in the simple form of where we were going and how long we would be there. I had never heard of any man specifically contracting us for a full month and in such a city as this.

"Well, you've gone quiet." He grinned even wider. I pouted, exaggerating my supposed anger at his mock, and hit him again with the bat. "It was a joke!"

I smacked him again, pointing to myself to say _'I make the jokes'_, but he just laughed.

"I wanted to see what the fuss is all about," he explained, looking passed me as the other folk got the tents ready, others fed the animals. "You're rather young and already have the profession of a clown."

I didn't know whether he was mocking me or not, but I was in costume and had to act the part. Putting on a great big smile, puffing out my chest, and making a show of being a very big deal for being a professional clown. Something he would never be able to do even if he wanted to, because all would want me and only me, and he actually seemed to get all that from the silent gestures I made. By the end, he was laughing this sort of laugh that can't be taken out of you head, and I was staring at those dark blue eyes wondering if there was something about him that I had missed.

"I think he's calling you." I turned, and sure enough, Uncle was waving at me to hurry up. "Well, _mime_, I'll see you around when your shows start. And I'm not gonna let you smack me around then."

I smacked him in the back of the head when he turned, running away to the lot when he turned to argue with me. He was laughing by the time I reached my uncle and turned to see if he was still standing there. I didn't get his name or why he ditched his supposed guardian to walk me back, but I thought nothing more of it. The boy was just curious, thought I was a boy so he couldn't possibly be hitting on me, and he knew about our location if the man with him was indeed our contractor. No one has conversations with a clown, so why did he?

"Annie!" My uncles voice boomed over the sounds of chattering, "Hurry up and get in here. I'm freezin' m'ass off. What're ya doing all dressed up s'early in the day?"

"Working," I respond, climbing into the small room him and my aunt share. She's seating next to the heater, a cigar in her mouth, a magazine on her too thin hand. Her eyes raise to meet mine as I enter, taking in my appearance and then grimaced. "I was doing some early advertisement for our first show. The more we bring in to the circus, the faster the pay, right?"

She looked like she wanted to kick me, spit on me, or maybe she was choking on her tobacco. Uncle shoved me forward to stand in front of my aunt before he sat down beside her and took the cigarette from her. He puffed out a few rings of smoke in my direction, motioning me to hand over everything I had on the open palm of his not-so-lovely wife. I did, handing over a man's gold watch, a small silver bracelet, and a single diamond cuff, but not the other. This time she _was_ choking, but on her retort of 'why the hell would she want this crap' and 'why couldn't I have gotten anything bigger, worth more, something worth their time in pawning and feeding me', because, of course, part of my circus pay went to them for being a _minor_.

"We just got here and it was a café," I say, "If we call attention to ourselves, you'll get nothing because they'll single the circus right away. Do you think no one would find it suspicious that the circus gets here and the place around it turns into a hell hole in minutes?"

Uncle struck me across the cheek, "Don't you dare talk back t'your aunt, young lady! If we tell ya t'go rob the back, we don' care if it's day and guarded, you have t'do what we say. D'ya here?"

"Yes . . . sir." I mumbled, thinking if he was as stupid as to actually send me to rob a bank. It was possible.

"This is Gotham," Aunt spoke, lifting a newspaper from the garbage. "If we stick to day's work, we should be able to avoid their dark hero. This is the crime capital, sugar, and the circus is the most innocent thing in this city. We will not be the top suspects."

"However that may be, I still think it's a bad idea to call attention just as we arrived." I say, "Many wouldn't think of coming to the circus if there's thieves around her. Losing a watch or your wallet or your purse can happen inside the circus, it's usually an accident on their part for forgetting them here, but if it happens just outside . . ."

"They'll know it was planned," she says calmly, looking at her husband. "The girl knows what she's talking about. Not just being lazy about doing what we say, right, Annie?"

"No, ma'am," I respond, "I just want to make it through the month without trouble. I heard if they catch you here they send you to an asylum."

"They ya better not be caught," Uncle chokes out between coughs. "Runnin' around lookin' like a clown, actin' like a mime, and usin' children t'do ya dirty work. Ya belon' in the crazy-bin."

_It's you who abuse and force children and you that'll be going there_, I didn't say, because I doubt they would even be called out for any of their crimes. They always found a way to slither out of the reach of authorities, sometimes even buying their silence, buying the young orphans that end in juvenile correction facilities. If Gotham was as bad as they said it was, then it wouldn't matter to the official if things were stolen here and there, or that these two forced young people to work for them. Compared to the other great villains that roamed the streets and that actually posed a threat, these two were just pitiful excuses for villains and not worth their time.


End file.
